


Talk Down My Walls

by CallicoKitten



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coffee Shops, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid Fic, Loki Needs a Hug, M/M, Odin is actually an okay daddy, eventual slash, idek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:25:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki thinks when he's returned to Asgard he'll be thrown in prison, how wrong he is.</p><p>Odin uses his magic to purge all memory of Loki from the universe and drops his son on Midgard to force him to build a new life for himself. Along the way Loki learns to let go and hold on and that maybe life as a human isn't so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Written because my life is going downhill in a big way and I just needed some fluff in my life.
> 
> Unbeta'd, feedback would be awesome though :D
> 
> Lyrics from I Want to be Well by Sufjan Stevens
> 
> Enjoy!

_To think that I would die this time_  
Isolated in the room where the bed rises  
Photographic ordinary people are everywhere  
Extraordinary histories, ordinary histories, ordinary histories 

I.  
Loki wakes up laid out on a soft white bed in a spacious apartment in the middle of Manhattan. 

It takes a moment for him to remember why he’s here and for a few minutes he lies spread-eagled on the satin sheets, staring blankly up at the ceiling and wondering where it all went wrong. 

Eventually he sits up and glances around. The bedroom is sleek and cosy and modern all at once, one wall is floor to ceiling windows and judging by the pale light pouring through the shuttered blinds its early morning. There’s a row of bookshelves lined with Midgardian books and Loki can’t help but smirk as he runs a finger along their spines, this must have been his mother’s touch. He crosses the room to rifle through the closet; it’s mostly plain things, denim jeans, shirts, tee-shirts. He’s dressed similarly, a plain white tee and slightly loose blue jeans, his hair is shorter too. 

He runs a hand through it and misses it’s length.

There’s a pile of papers on the bedside table, passport, birth certificates, school records; _Loki Odinsson_ , they say. _Odinsson_.

He’s not sure how he feels about that (given that it’s a meaningless name because Loki Odinsson doesn’t _exist_ anymore, not to anyone) He sighs, drops the papers back onto the surface and drifts out in to the hall.

The bathroom is across from his room, sleek and clean and fancy, just like the bedroom. The living area was down the hall, spacious kitchen area, balcony (with a nice view of the newly refurbished Avengers tower, he notes with a smirk) There’s a small television and a few comfy looking couches, another bookshelf. Everything is warmly coloured, homely, cheerful.

Loki resists the urge to break everything (misses the tingle of magic at his finger tips)

There’s another door along the corridor and Loki frowns at it. He has a bathroom, a bedroom, a living-kitchen-dining area; he had no need for another room. Maybe it was added optimistically; maybe they want Loki to turn into the perfect family man. He sniggers at that. Love has never been in his vocabulary and at the thought of children something twists painfully.

His children are all gone, dead or banished.

He leans against the closed door of the mystery room and wonders if they exist anymore. The Allfather had wiped all memory of Loki from Asgard and Midgard and all the other realms he could. Loki didn’t exist. Did his children blink out of existence too? His hand wanders briefly to the cool metal handle, traces it, pushes it down, pauses.

Let’s go.

There’s a sense of magic about the door, he’ll open it one day, but not today.

 

II.

He spends most of the first week wondering around the city, there are whole chunks that are missing, buildings that have been blown apart but no one seems to remember why.

To them it is just the remnants of some nameless terror that the Avengers saved them from.

To Loki its evidence he still exists. 

He spends hours in tiny book shops, in clothing stores and coffee shops, he visits zoos and parks and aquariums, he learns all there is to learn about Midgard and there is so, so much. 

He drifts through the streets, nameless, faceless. 

In the evenings he stumbles back up to his apartment, flashes a smile at his neighbour (she has an obvious crush on him) and curls up in silence.

Some nights he thinks of Thor and home and family. Some nights he thinks of his magic, his power, his anger. Some nights he feels Thanos’ thick hands on him. Some nights it’s like he’s a ghost. Like when he’s in this room, in this flat he just ceases to be real.

Most nights he leaves the window open and drifts to sleep with the gentle roar of the city beneath him, constantly in motion and alive.

 

It keeps him grounded.

He still hasn’t opened the door to the spare room.

III.

He takes the job at the coffee shop for no reason in particular.

Maybe it’s to reassure himself that he’s still real.

The owner smiles politely and butchers his names a couple of times before Loki sounds it out to him, “Low-key Odin-son.” It’s not that difficult but Loki has learnt that with Midgardians you have to be patient.

“That’s interesting,” Mr Irvine says. “Scandinavian?” 

“Yeah, my parents moved over here from Norway when I was four,” the lie feels good in his mouth, slips out easily. He’s been building a life for himself these past few weeks, chopping and changing and honing and polishing until it’s perfect. 

“Must have been a bit of culture shock,” Irvine remarks flipping through Loki’s resume. “Says here you just moved down from Alaska.”

Loki added that himself. It gives him an excuse to ask for help.

“Why’d you move here? Sick of polar bears and ice?”

Loki smiles, “Just fancied a change.”

The coffee shop is nothing special; a quiet little joint in the Lower Manhattan, a ten minute walk from Loki’s apartment. The staff are kind and he gets to know them well. There’s Laura, the grad student from Canada working to pay her way through business school, Henry the genius who graduated from MIT but wanted a simpler job, Mrs Varonsky mother of two who’s working three jobs to pay off her divorce and Hester, newly married, working hard to put down a deposit for a house. 

For the first few weeks he tries to keep his distance; they’re below him, puny things with a tiny intellect and the lifespan of moths. But then he burns himself at work and it doesn’t heal quickly. It hits him like a knife driven through his gut, hard and fast.

Is he human now?

Laura babies him and wraps a cool towel around the burn and smiles kindly, “It happens to the best of us, Loki. It’s not too bad, should heal in a few days.”

The ice feels familiar but his skin doesn’t turn blue.

Loki stares at her for a few seconds. He wants to shout at her but then he realises that she has no idea what this means for him, she can’t possibly comprehend what it is to be a god one minute and a human the next. He blinks. 

“Thank you,” the words feel clumsy in his mouth.

She grins, “No problem, Lo.”

Things get better after that.

He works a shift every day. Gossips with Laura on Mondays and Wednesdays, talks science with Henry on Tuesdays, listens to Mrs Varonsky’s stories about her kids on Thursdays and giggles with Hester on Fridays. He goes on a few dates with his neighbour, Sasha, but she’s too soft for him, to clingy, he lets her down easy and they stay friends. On the weekends he wanders around the town builds himself new identities for each new person he meets. Sometimes he’s a grad student, sometimes he’s a dropout, once or twice he’s an engineer at Stark Enterprises (he wonders what Stark would think if he heard _that_ ) He babysits Mrs Varonsky’s sons, Dimitri and Ivan on occasion and falls in love with them, he’s always loved kids.

Lather, rinse, repeat. 

It takes him a few weeks to realise that he’s happier than he’s ever been.

He’s not a prince, there are no expectations, there’s no Thor to be overshadowed by, no Heimdel watching his every move (well, he reflects, there probably _is_ but he doesn’t need to think about that here) He doesn’t need to be Loki Odinsson, God of lies and trickery, prince of Asgard, second heir to the throne, or Loki Laufeyson, abomination, angry beyond reason, desperate for _something_ to stop the hurting. 

He’s not different. He’s not a monster. He’s not a freak. A misfit. A weirdo. 

He can just be Loki. 

Just Loki.

And he thinks that might be all he’s ever wanted.

Doesn’t open the spare room.

IV.

He makes it his first few months without running in to any of the Avengers which is an achievement considering Captain America, Iron Man and that beast Hulk are currently staying in the same part of the city as him.

He sees them on TV occasionally, Stark mostly but occasionally Rogers will be on talking about patriotism and shuffling uncomfortably (Laura almost swoons the first time he’s on TV in the coffee shop) He doesn’t know if Thor’s on Midgard, not that his brother would recognise him if he was. 

He’s not sure how that makes him feel.

His luck runs out one quiet Wednesday morning when he and Laura are lounging about discussing their futures (well Laura’s sort of bullying Loki into it) “Come on, Loki, there must be something you want to do! You can’t just stay working here the rest of your life!”

The shop is mostly empty so it’s not like they have any work to be doing. “Why can’t I?” he asks with a smile.

Laura rolls her eyes, “You’re too young to stay here forever. How old are you anyway? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

“Twenty-six,” Loki answers automatically (he’s memorised Odin’s birth certificate for him).

“See! That’s way too long to work here for the rest of your life! Don’t you want a family, a nice house? You could go back to school, maybe, you’re clever, Henry says so.”

Loki smiles, “A family would be nice but honestly I’m just happy with what I’ve got right now.”

They’re interrupted by the twinkling of the bell that indicates a new customer. Laura looks up and squeaks, elbowing Loki, “It’s him, Loki, it’s him.”

Steve Rogers walks across to them awkwardly, hands fiddling with his wallet. Loki’s done his research; he’s seen pictures of Rogers pre-serum, a scrawny kid with kind blue eyes. Now he still looks the same, just a little bigger, a kid in his father’s suit. He expected some anger, maybe even hatred, but there’s nothing, no burn of loathing in his chest. 

“You do it,” hisses Laura, “I can’t serve him.”

“Laura,” he says.

“No, please Loki, for me?”

He sighs and steps up, plastic smile slipping into to place. “Morning sir, what can I get you?”

(Behind him Laura ducks into the storeroom mumbling something about needing more spoons)

Steve smiles, meets his eyes, “Just a black coffee, please.”

There’s nothing, no hint of recognition, no sudden narrowing of Steve’s eyes, yanking him down and dragging him off to some nameless prison. Nothing. 

Loki lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Coming right up, sir.”

V.

Loki’s gets to know the people who live on his floor slowly.

There are three other apartments, one is Sasha’s, one is the home of a happy little family mom, dad, two kids and one is the home of Mr Onsdag, an elderly gentleman with a strong Scandinavian accent and a glass eye.

He doesn’t seem to be there all the time and Loki figures he must spend a lot of time with his family who live out of town as Onsdag once told him. When he is there though Loki spends a lot of time with him, talking, listening, talking more. 

He offers the kind of quiet wisdom and guidance Loki had always craved as a young boy. 

VI.

Loki’s next run in with an Avenger doesn’t go as smoothly.

Again, he’s at the coffee shop, this time with Hester. Steve by now is a frequent customer, they’re on first name terms (the first time Loki introduced himself he expected the spell to be broken and Steve to throw him across the room or something but it didn’t happen) Laura still refuses to serve him and Loki finds it hilarious.

When Steve comes in Loki looks up with a warm smile, he’s alone in the shop, Hester’s on her break and he’s actually looking forward to chatting with him. But then there’s a voice from behind him and Loki freezes.

“I’m telling you, Rogers, there is no coffee better than Starbucks, I refuse to believe it.”

Steve wrinkles his nose, “Tony, I’m not sure Starbucks is even coffee. There’s way too much sugar and cream and whatever in there.”

Tony swaggers in, slick suit and shades and glances around the place with an air of distain. “Whatever, Rogers. This better be good.”

 

“It is,” Steve smiles, shoving Tony towards a table and striding up to the counter, “Morning, Loki.”

“The usual, Steve?” When Steve nods Loki glances at Stark who is tapping away on his phone. “And for Mr Stark?”

Steve glances around like he’s about to divulge a state secret, “He’ll take a cinnamon-chocolate mocha,” then seeing Loki’s baffled expression he laughs slightly. “He doesn’t like people to know he likes his coffee sweet.”

“...Right. I’ll bring over your drinks in a minute.”

Steve grins, “Thanks, Loki.” And walks back over to where Stark is now complaining loudly about how much work he’s missing.

Loki makes the coffees (forgets to add sugar to Stark’s coffee out of spite), brings them over and sets them down, servile smile again in place. “Here you go, guys.”

Steve thanks him and Loki’s about to turn back to the register when Tony stops him, grabbing his sleeve and frowning. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Loki panics, “Uh, I don’t think so. I mean I live around here so maybe we’ve seen each other around...”

“No,” Tony says, taking of his shades and searching Loki’s face. “I definitely know you from somewhere.”

“Tony-“ Steve begins, looking apologetically at Loki.

“No, Steve, I recognise him. It’s weird though like I know him but I can’t...” he breaks off, frowns again. “What’s your name?”

“L-Loki,” please Gods, don’t recognise me.

“Loki,” Stark murmers, rolling the name around his tongue, “Loki...”

The bell jangles.

“Tony, would you let him go? He’s got a job to do.” Steve snaps.

Tony relents and Loki straightens up, trying desperately to compose himself.

“Sorry, Loki,” Steve says, looking mortified. 

“Its fine, I’m fine, no harm done.” He smiles weakly, turns back to greet the next customer and feels Tony’s eyes on him until he and Steve leave. 

That evening he heads to Mr Onsdag’s and the old man makes him tea and lets him vent.

“It’s strange,” Loki says, “I saw someone from my old life, in Alaska today. I didn’t realise how hard it would be.”

Onsdag leans forwards, “Oh? Did you speak to him?”

“Yes, a little,” Loki sighs. “I think he might still think I’m who I was back then.” He says quietly.

“And who were you back then?”

It’s hard to explain without sounding completely mad so Loki just says, “Not a good person.”

“You’re not that person anymore, Loki.” Onsdag says kindly.

Loki runs a hand through his hair, “But I was once, isn’t that bad enough?” He finds himself saying.

Onsdag smiles, “Perhaps. But what matters more is that you are sorry.”

Loki’s swallows, not sure he believes Onsdag. He’s started having nightmares (he’s always had them but they used to be about Thanos and the Chitauri and _ohgodstop_ ) now they’re about all the people who died. He sees their faces every night, the families they left behind. 

He buries his face in his hands.

If Odin meant this as a torture he succeeded. 

“I don’t think sorry really quite covers it,” Loki says, voice raw.

Onsdag chuckles, “And it is precisely that that tells me how sorry you truly are.” he hears Onsdag shuffle about and then there is a warm hand on his shoulder. “You are not a bad person, Loki. You are a person who did bad things out of desperation.”

“And what would you know of it, Onsdag?” Loki snaps bitterly. This old man probably thinks Loki was a junkie or something equally as pathetic (but you were _pathetic_ , Thanos hisses in his head).

Onsdag smiles wisely. “I’m old, I know everything.” He moves back to his chair and sits back. “There’s an empty room in your apartment, is there not?”

Loki blinks, “Yes but-”

“Perhaps it is time you found something to fill it.”

 

VII.

Loki stares at the door. 

He doesn’t understand what Onsdag meant.

He leaves it shut.

 

VIII.

The next time Loki sees Tony is at a party.

It’s a fluke really, Loki should never have been attending a party that Tony Stark was also attending and it only happened because Loki and Laura convinced Henry to apply for a job there. Tony had apparently taken a liking to him and Henry had hauled Loki to the party as a plus 1.

It was surreal seeing all these people that should want him dead.

Agents Barton and Romanoff are chatting together in a corner, to the untrained eye they would appear slightly drunk but their eyes are bright and watchful and Loki knows they’re not letting their guard down. Steve is sat at the bar, nursing the same glass he’s had for the last two hours and Banner sits beside him. Neither of them look like they want to be there but they smile politely and speak when spoken to. 

Loki manages to avoid him for most of the night.

He runs out of luck on his way out the door.

Stark grabs him from behind, twirls him round, “You aren’t getting away that easy.” 

Tony Stark manhandles him into some office room with the most high tech computers Loki’s ever seen and pushes him down on to the couch. Loki watches as he paces up and down and he fidgets.

If Tony recognises he’ll be in deep trouble.

They’ll think it’s his fault they don’t remember.

They’ll send him to SHIELD who’ll poke him and prod him and torture him.

And Thor won’t be coming to save him this time.

And Gods, what will Laura think? Or Henry? Or the Varonsky’s? Or Onsdag?

Stark stops, spins around and leans in to study Loki’s face. It’s the closest Loki’s ever been to him and he can’t help but stare back. He looks older closer up, looks tired and Loki’s slightly amused to find confusion in Stark’s bright brown eyes. 

No recognition. Just confusion.

“I don’t get it,” Stark says, his eyes sliding over Loki’s face (and it’s one of the most intense experiences of Loki’s life) “I know I know you. I just can’t work out where from...”

Loki bites back the snarky comment, drops his gaze. “We’ve never met before.” he says quietly.

Stark shakes his head, “Nope, we have definitely met.” He sits back. “You haven’t done any porn videos have you?”

Loki snaps his head up, ready to scream at him because _how dare he_? But when he looks up Stark’s smirking at him and Loki feels himself smile involuntary and then he gives as good as he’s given, “None legal in the US.” 

Stark snorts and reaches behind himself to grab two drinks he’d apparently stashed earlier and hands one to Loki. He raises an eyebrow, “Just how long have you been planning to drag me into a darkened office, Stark?”

Stark chuckles and Loki sniffs at his drink. “Don’t worry, I haven’t drugged you,” he says, “ _Yet._ ” he adds with wink.

“So it’s Loki? That’s Scandinavian, right?”

“Yeah, my parents were from Norway,” its second nature now, his story. Almost like it’s his real life.

“Henry says you lived in Alaska, why’d you move here?”

“Fancied a change,” he mumbles in to his drink.

Stark must pick up on something about his tone of voice or expression or _something_ because he leans forward, immediately, “What was it, family problems?”

Loki smiles to himself, “Something like that.”

“Tell me about it.” Stark says. It’s not a question it’s a command and Loki has to look to make sure that yes, this is notoriously selfish Tony Stark asking him to talk about his life. Maybe Tony didn’t yank him in here to get him drunk and have his way with him. He usually avoids talking about ‘Alaska’ because he knows he’ll end up saying _something_ that doesn’t make sense and he really doesn’t want to ruin this but Tony is watching him with this _look_ and Loki knows he’s in trouble.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “What do you want to know?”

They talk for hours.

Well, Loki talks and Tony watches him looking a little fascinated.

Loki talks about Thor and Sif and Fandrall and Hogun and Volstagg (changes their names a little, edits their adventures down) and he realises how much he misses them. He talks about his mother and her beauty and kindness and love. He talks about their travels, their culture, their stories.

He talks until there’s a lump in his throat and he swallows. They don’t remember him. To them he never existed. There never was a second son of Odin, there never was a baby found in a war-torn Jotun temple, never was a trickster god who could create illusions with a snap of his fingers. 

He never _existed_.

He stands, mumbles, “Sorry, I have to go.” And stumbles out of the room, arms wrapped around himself because he’s trying to hold himself together. 

He thinks he hears Tony call after him (wonders when he became _Tony,_ rather than _Stark_ ) but he doesn’t stop until he’s home. 

 

IX.

Loki lies awake in bed an ache in his chest and hot tears in his eyes. 

He’s never felt so _alone_. 

Even when he was lost in the space in between worlds and hurtling through everything and nothing and every world and no worlds at the same time he could still _feel_ his family. He could still close his eyes and hold himself tight because if he screwed this up Thor would come.

But now he never existed. He never happened. There was no Loki. _Is_ no Loki.

“Why are you doing this, Father?” he croaks. He would prefer a prison. A prison on Asgard where he could at least _feel_ them. He sits up covers his eyes, takes a deep breath.

He’ll get no sleep tonight. He wanders around the apartment for a bit, settles down on the couch and flicks on the TV. There’s a piece about the attack on New York, the nameless alien terrors that killed hundreds (he’s not mentioned, there’s nothing about a hopelessly mad God at the centre of it all) he turns it off quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_.” He sobs, “Sorrysorrysorrysorry _sorry_.”

He doesn’t _want_ to be that person. (He never wanted to be that person.)

Then he hears something.

It’s a soft noise. Like a yawn. A soft sleepy noise.

He freezes, heart pounding.

Silence.

He stands up and wonders if he’d imagined the sound until he hears something again. This time it’s different; a rustling. His hands are itching for his magic, there’s definitely someone in his flat.

He grabs the nearest thing to him (it’s an umbrella and he takes a second to think about how ridiculous he must look; pyjama-d and barefoot, brandishing an umbrella like it’s his sceptre) He pads towards the corridor cautiously (tries not to think of Thanos’ threats _he doesn’t exist for Thanos, he doesn’t, he doesn’t_ ) 

The noises are coming from the spare room.

He pauses, stares, takes a deep breath and pushes the door open.

The room is lit a gentle blue colour and Loki’s confused for a few moments before he spots the space themed night-light on the small dresser in the centre of the room. Beside it, on either side were two tiny toddler beds.

“Vali,” he breathes. “Narfi.”

X.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

Onsdag smiles, “Who, Loki?”

Loki lowers his voice, “Father.”

Odin chuckles, “I was wondering when you’d figure it out.” 

There are a thousand things Loki wants to say, wants to ask but he thinks of his sleeping sons still tucked up in the apartment down the hall (there were papers stacked neatly on the desk; custody papers, divorce papers, birth certificates, medical records, everything he needs) He opens and closes his mouth a few times before settling for; “Thank you.”

Odin smiles warmly. “I love you, Loki and if I had a chance to do it all again I would do it differently.”

Loki swallows and looks away, “Are you leaving now?”

“Oh, I’ll come to check in on you occasionally. Now go back to your life, son.”

“Yes father.”

_Illness likes to prey upon the lonely, prey upon the lonely  
Wave goodbye, oh, I would rather be, but I would rather be fine_

_I want to be well, I want to be well  
I want to be well, I want to be well_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's shorter and the ending is really dumb so idk, I might rework it but it says what it needs to.
> 
> Sorry it took so long guys! Uni is literally killing me with reading and assignments etc, thanks so much for all your comments and kudos ^_^
> 
> Unbeta'd so feel free to point out any errors
> 
> FLUFF AND ANGST BUT MOSTLY ANGST.

I.

If people are surprised that Loki suddenly has two kids they don’t show it.

The neat pile of papers that appeared with his sons detail a long and messy divorce and custody battle with Sigourney (he wonders what Sigyn would think of _that_ ) They say he and Sigourney married young, barely out of high school and Loki fills in the details of their marriage as he goes along. 

The only one who really seems interested is Laura. _“You never told me you were married!”_ she drags him in to the backroom of the coffee shop and makes him tell the whole story. The lies come easily and he’s almost proud when Laura wipes her eyes and hugs him and says, “I’m so, _so_ sorry that happened to you.”

He takes a few days off work and he and Sasha travel around to find them the best preschool they can. He cuts down on his working hours too, Sasha (who works at home) watches them when they’re not in preschool or and Loki has to work. Everyone from the coffee shop adores them and spoils them rotten.

Vali and Narfi are just as perfect as they were before.

They’re beautiful, identical but for Narfi’s blonde hair to Vali’s dark (sometimes it reminds him entirely too much of Thor) they’re well behaved and adorable and so, _so_ clever. 

Sometimes they talk about Asgard. They talk about their family, their brothers and sister, their uncle, their mother. They talk about the Bifrost and the palace and magic. He’s glad that they’re so young, glad that most of this is chalked up to one too many fairy stories and overactive imagination. And that Alaska and Asgard are similarish.

(He keeps waiting for Vali to wake up crying because sometimes when Loki closes his eyes he can still see Vali the rabid wolf tearing his brother limb from limb.)

It takes him a while to realise they’re there. They’re _really_ there.

He wakes up in a cold sweat some nights and finds himself stumbling down the hall to their room just to check and sometimes he catches himself staring at them because they’re _alive._

II.

He doesn’t see Tony again until a month after the party.

Sasha’s brought the twins in to the coffee shop (like she always does on a Monday afternoon) and Tony and Steve stroll through the doors just as Narfi is running towards the counter waving a crayon drawing, “Daddy, daddy look!” (and Laura vanishes in to the back cupboard)

The three reach the counter at the same time and Narfi stumbles, staring up at Steve with wide eyes before coming round and tugging Loki’s trouser leg. “Daddy,” he hisses, “It’s Captain America.”

Loki laughs, Steve chuckles and Tony stares at Narfi like he’s spontaneously sprouted an extra head.

Steve knells down, “Is he yours?”

“Yeah.”

“You never told me you had kids!” Tony says accusatorially.

Loki glares at him, “You never asked.”

After a few moments Narfi looks up and says, “Daddy, I’m gonna take Captain America to see our other drawings, ‘kay?”

“Sure, sweetie.”

Narfi leads him across the room chatting animatedly and Loki smiles as he begins making their usual orders. Tony leans against the counter. “I’m not much of kid person.” He says by way of explanation.

“ _No!_ You? I never would have guessed.”

Tony grins, “No one likes a smartass, Loki.” 

“So, about the other day...” Loki says, looking anywhere but Tony’s face. “I’m sorry.”

Tony waves a dismissive hand. “It’s no biggie. In fact I routinely go to the parties of dashing billionaires, tell the host my depressing life story and run out without a backward glance.”

Loki grins. “And do you also make a habit of cornering helpless coffee shop employees in darkened rooms and plying them with alcohol, Mr Stark?”

“Only if they’re pretty.” 

Loki almost burns himself on the coffee maker (he doesn’t think Tony sees though.) “What was that about no one liking smartarses?” 

Tony chuckles. “Touché,” then he leans forwards. “Hey, if you’re from Alaska why do you sound British?”  
Honestly Loki’s a little surprised it’s taken _this_ long for anyone to ask that. He smirks and pushes the two cups towards Tony, “Your coffee, Mr Stark.”

“Good answer. You know what? I quite like you, Mr Odinsson.” Tony says as he shoves a wad of cash towards Loki. “Keep the change. As a tip or whatever.”

Loki quirks and eyebrow, “Ooh, a tip? I don’t know Stark, it could be love.”

Tony winks as he takes the cups over to the table beside the one Vali and Narfi have marked as theirs (seriously, they’ve doodled all over it, Mr Irvine was _not_ pleased) He sits as far away from the twins as possible and observes Steve talking to them with the detached fascination of a nature documenter. 

Laura emerges as soon as he’s gone, “Loki,” she says, in her ‘omg’ voice. “Please tell me you weren’t just _flirting_ with Tony Stark.”

“ _What?_ ” Loki splutters. _Flirting?_ “No, we were just talking!”

Laura smirks, “Sure you were, Lo.”

“We _were!_ ” Right?

“Sure.” She says with a wink. “He has a girlfriend you know.” She hisses.

“We _weren’t_ flirting!”

Laura’s about to make another snarky comment when Sasha hurries over, shaking with excitement. “I just got Steve’s number!” she hisses. “We’re seeing each other on Friday evening!”

Laura makes a strange choked sound.

III.

Loki hasn’t seen Odin since he worked out who he was. 

He occasionally finds himself outside his father’s door, hand half raised to knock, he never does though. He’s not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s because he instinctively knows his father isn’t in there.

Maybe it’s because he’s not sure what he’s supposed to say to him.

Two months after he sees him the apartment is put up for sale. A nice young couple and their baby daughter moves in. 

Loki tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him.

He hasn’t seen Thor yet.

IV.

“Daddy,” Vali says one lazy Sunday morning. “Why did the aliens attack New York?”

Loki’s been expecting this for a while but it still takes him by surprise. He looks up to find his son’s green eyes trained on him and everything he’d planned to say evaporates. 

Narfi rolls over (he’s sprawled on the carpet watching Adventure Time) “’Cos they were bad, Vali.”

Vali frowns at his brother, “But _why_?” 

_Because I asked them to._ “Maybe some people are just bad, Val.”

_Like your Daddy._

(Monster.)

Vali scrunches his face up. “But why?”

“Sasha says they wanted to take over the earth.” Narfi says with all the authority a three year old can muster. “And she knows _everything_ ‘cos she’s been to college.”

“Daddy knows everything too!” Vali protests, “And he hasn’t been to _college_.”

Loki smiles.”Vali, I’m sure there was a reason they attacked,” ( _me_ ) “but I don’t think anyone really knows why.” (Odin made sure of that.)

“Could they do it again?” 

_Not without the tesseract._ “No, sweetheart, I don’t think so.”

“Besides,” Narfi says, “The Avengers will save us if they come back! Right, daddy?”

“Right.” Loki says with a nod, the boys seem satisfied with this but Loki changes the subject swiftly just in case. “Now have you guys decided what you want to be for Halloween yet?” (He’s slightly confused about the Midgardian holiday but the twins have talked of little else for weeks)

“I wanna be a wolf, daddy!” Vali says and Loki almost has a heart attack.

V.

It’s Henry that starts it.

Loki meets him for lunch every other Thursday, it’s a rare kid free moment for him and he misses his long talks with him about everything from quantum physics to the origin of life. They’re at a small pizzeria and Loki’s telling him about the twins and how well they’re adjusting to life in New York. 

“That’s great, Loki.” He smiles, “It’s so awesome, it like your life’s turned in to a dream or something!”

It shouldn’t affect him but it does. 

_A dream._

What if it _is_ a dream?

What if he’s in a prison on Asgard and this is all in his head. 

(There’s a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Thanos. It scoffs: _of course it’s a dream. Why would they let you be happy? You don’t deserve it._ )

It would make sense. 

Kind of.

Loki knows Odin’s powerful but could he really wipe the mind of _everyone_ in New York? In America? In the _world_? 

And Vali and Narfi.

Loki saw them die.

(He stood helpless and Odin watched like a statue as Loki’s beautiful son tore his twin brother apart and Loki was screaming and begging and pleading _pleasenotthemkillmenot **them**_ )

Odin had stood and given the order.

Odin had stood and watched as his grandsons died.

(He rode another, banished a second, bound a third and threw Loki’s little daughter in to the underworld)

Mother of monsters, they called him.

 _I love you, Loki._ He had said.

(He took your children)

 _If I could do things differently I would_.

(You almost committed genocide. You almost killed Thor, Odin’s beloved son. You almost destroyed an innocent world)

Loki drifts.

How is supposed to know if it’s real?

He looks around at his comfortable life. His apartment, his job, his friends, his sons. It’s perfect (too perfect) If this was supposed to be a punishment it’s not a very good one. 

(Why would they reward you? You deserve none of this)

It’s true. Why _would_ they reward him?

He’s done nothing to deserve this.

He _deserves_ punishment.

Maybe they felt guilty. They took his children. They sewed his lips shut. They never noticed him slipping (they were his _family_ they should have noticed!) They should have _cared_.

But they did _care._

Do care?

It keeps him awake at night; tossing and turning and twisting. 

If it’s not real will they take it away from him.

They could.

They’ve taken everything else.

He screams into pillows, clenches his fists until his nails dig in to his soft palms and bleed. 

He tries to keep it from the twins but what if.

_What if._

What _if_.

WhatIfWhatIfWhatIf.

If this world isn’t real then they’re still dead.

_Dead._

(He can see the blood running down Vali’s jaws and Narfi’s still screaming and _howishestillalive_ )

If he sleeps he dreams of falling. 

Falling through everything and nothing and all times and no times all at once and Odin’s there; Odin’s smiling as he tells Thor to let go.

(but that didn’t happen)

_Did it?_

He doesn’t know anymore.

He doesn’t _know_.

Laura catches him in the back room one Wednesday, tugging at his hair. 

“Delayed reaction,” she says. His life has changed so much (he’s moved States, got a new job, become a single parent) it’s natural. She covers for him, sends him home with a concerned look.

VI.

As soon as he gets back to the apartment block he goes to Odin’s door.

But Odin’s not there. He _feels_ it in his bones.

He goes back to the empty flat (the twins are at preschool) he wants to scream. 

He wants to break.

To _tear_.

To destroy.

VII.

By Thursday he’s pacing the apartment.

If this world isn’t real it must have limits, right?

He calls Sasha and the preschool, packs up the kids and food and clothes and drives. (He bought a car once he realised going anywhere with two young kids on public transport was a nightmare) He doesn’t know where, all he knows is that if there’s a limit he’s going to find it. 

He drives down through Pennsylvania to Washington to North Carolina, across to Tennessee. Up through Kentucky and Illinois to Iowa and Nebraska. He stops at parks and zoos for the kids and finds motels for them every night (not that he sleeps much)

He calls work and Mr Irvine threatens to fire him before Loki blurts out, “My father died.” The lie feels good, feels right and Mr Irvine stutters a little before giving him a week off.

He starts lying a lot after that. The boys think it’s just a game; inventing new names and stories whenever anyone asks. He feels bad but he doesn’t know how to stop.

On Wednesday they reach Colorado. They see the Grand Canyon and it reminds Loki of the scarred, broken planet he met Thanos on. 

He hasn’t found a limit. It all looks real.

But

What

If

It’s

Not?

He’s sitting in the car (the boys asleep in the back) when Laura calls.

“Loki, where the hell are you?”

He wants to lie and say he got a flight to Alaska for his father’s funeral but when he opens his mouth he says; “Colorado.”

There’s a pause and then, “What are you doing there?” she doesn’t sound angry, her voice is quiet, worried, sympathetic.

“Dunno,” he croaks.

“Your dad didn’t die, did he?”

“N-no.”

She sighs and when she speaks again she can hear her tears (it feels real but why would anyone care that much about him?) “Are the boys with you? Are they safe?”

“They’re fine, they’re here.” He should be offended but he’s too tired.

“Loki, what are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I just...I just needed to get away. I’m just so _tired,_ you know?”

He hears her sob, “Loki come home. We’re all so worried. _Please_ come home.”

“Yeah.” He says. 

And he does.

VIII.

He makes the drive in three days.

Sasha’s waiting outside when he pulls in to the car park and she pulls him in to a tight hug. “Don’t you _ever_ do that again!” she snaps. “I was so worried!”

He leans in to her warmth. (It feels real but what is _real?_ ) “I won’t.”

He feels like he’s going to explode.

It’s late so the boys are already asleep. They carry them inside and tuck them in and Sasha says, “I can watch them if you need an evening off.”

Loki blinks, “What?”

“I want you to get whatever this is out of your system, Loki. For the boys. So if you need to go get drunk, or drive around I want you to do it _now_ and then get back to normal.” 

“Yeah, that’d be good.” He says after a few minutes. 

She nods, hugs him again and makes him promise to be careful.

As soon as he leaves the apartment he breaks in to a run.

He runs until his thoughts are static and his legs lock beneath him and he falls on to the soft dirt path. He’s ended up in a park.

“Father,” he murmers. “Father, please. I need to know if this is real or not.”

He sits up.

Looks up.

“Heimdel,” he cries. “Heimdel, I know you’re watching. Just _please_ , give me something!”

The stars twinkle innocently back.

“Please!”

An inexplicable rage bubbles up in Loki’s chest. What if this was the punishment? Odin must have known that Loki wouldn’t be able to trust this, that it would drive him mad. 

Loki snarls, “I know you’re up there! Are you enjoying this? Is this what you wanted for me, Allfather?”

“Okay, so I thought screaming at the night sky was a little cliché, even for you.”

Loki jumps and spins around. 

Tony’s standing there eyeing him nervously.

“ _Stark_ ,” he growls, fists clenching. He really doesn’t need this right now. 

Tony raises his hands in a placating gesture, “Hey, whoa now, Loki. I’m not gonna do anything.”

“Why are you here?” Loki spits.

“Just out for a run, you? I mean aside from conversing with the stars of course.” He smiles nervously and Loki feels his anger dissipate slightly. 

“I’m just....” _having trouble working out what’s real._ “I don’t know. I needed some air...”

Tony takes a step towards him. “Laura said you took off with the boys.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I needed sometime away.” Loki takes a steadying breath.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

Tony smiles fondly. “Wanna get out of this cold?”

Loki hadn’t realised he was shivering. He nods, “I don’t- I don’t want to go home though. Can we maybe go to a cafe or something?”

“You can come to the Tower. It’s close.”

Loki tries to smile, “Are you propositioning me, Mr Stark?”

“That depends, is it working?”

Loki does smile that time, steps up so he’s standing beside Tony. “You have a girlfriend.”

Tony looks away for a moment, starts to walk and Loki follows. “Pepper dumped me.” Tony says, staring straight ahead as they leave the park. “Well, I say _dumped_. It was sort of mutual.”

“But you love her,” Loki says with a frown. Loki knows love (he loves his children, he loved his brother _still does_ , he loved Sigyn) He’s seen how Tony looks at Pepper in interviews and press appearances like he can’t really believe she’s his (when she looks he turns away or smirks or does something else Stark-esque that completely ruins it).

Tony sighs (still walking fast paced like if he stops and thinks about what he’s saying it’ll make it too hard, Loki knows that feeling) “She wants something I can’t give her.”

Loki doesn’t have to ask. He’s read up on Howard Stark and his alcoholism; he’s read how Tony spent most of his time in boarding school and in the care of his butler. Tony can’t condemn Howard publically because he’s _Howard Stark_ beloved genius. (Reminds him all too much of Odin, Allfather, King, Loki couldn’t speak against him)

“She deserves better,” Tony says. They’re almost at the tower now (if Loki cranes his neck he can see the window he threw Tony out of, the balcony he stabbed his brother on, there’s a lump in his throat. _Sentiment_ )

“What about what you deserve?” Loki asks quietly.

There’s a moment where Tony looks at him like he’s honestly surprised like no one’s ever asked that, like he’s never even considered it himself, but then it’s gone, replaced by Tony’s smirk. “After this talk? I deserve a nice glass of scotch. Or maybe a bottle. I haven’t decided yet.”

Tony leads him to an elevator and then up to the room with the bar (the floorboards are very obviously newer in one Loki-sized section and Loki shudders.) It looks more lived in then on his last visit; there are magazines and a few items of clothing strewn about. Loki perches awkwardly in one of the chairs.

“Steve is in London visiting an old friend,” Tony says, heading over to the bar. “Bruce is off in Brazil doctoring people for a month and the Wonder Twins are off on some super secret SHIELD mission that I should not be mentioning to you.” he brandishes the scotch. “Drink?”

Loki nods.

Tony crosses the room and presses the cool glass in to his hands, “Still not ready to tell me why you were out there?”

Loki shakes his head and Tony pats his arm affectionately (he’s noticed Tony isn’t a very tactile person, maybe this is a sign it’s not real, _maybe_ ) Tony sits opposite him and starts talking. It shouldn’t help but it does. Loki sits and let’s Tony’s voice drown out his thoughts, sipping the scotch slowly.

“I don’t know if this is real anymore,” he says quietly as Tony’s nattering about his latest arc reactor design. They’ve almost finished the bottle and there’s a pleasant warmth in Loki’s chest, the words slip out easily.

Tony stutters and stares. “What?”

“This,” Loki gestures vaguely. “I don’t know if _this_ is real or not.”

For a minute he thinks Tony’s going to laugh at him but he doesn’t, instead he frowns. “Why would you think that?” 

Loki wants to tell him. Loki wants to tell him everything. But somehow “I’m a god (or _was_ a god) and I led an alien army against you guys and this is my punishment or prison or _whatever_ this is so you might just be an aspect in that prison or punishment or _what_ ” doesn’t strike him as a particularly sane thing to blurt out. But he can’t think of any other way to explain so instead he sort of just stares straight ahead and tightens his grip on the glass.

He lets out a startled gasp when the glass shatters.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “I’ll-I’ll clean it up...”

The alcohol burns dully in the tiny cuts.

Tony grabs a paper towel and kneels beside Loki, “Lemme see,” he says gruffly. He deftly removes the shards lodged in Loki’s hand and wipes away the blood. “Can you feel that?”

“Well...Yes but...” _You can feel pain in dreams too._

Tony frowns, “Then why do you think this is a dream?”

“I don’t...” he stammers. “I can’t...”

“Its okay, Loki,” Tony says quietly. “You can tell me when you’re ready.” He stands and crosses back to the bar, pulling a first aid box out of one of the cupboards. “Or never as the case may be. Hey, when I went through my existential crisis I refused to leave my room for six months and built JARVIS, it happens to all of us.”

Loki stands when Tony’s bandaged his hand (he didn’t need one but Tony had insisted) “I should go.” He sways and Tony chuckles.

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

IX. 

When Loki wakes up Tony’s curled around him.

It takes a few moments for him to remember why he’s in Iron Man’s bed (and to recall that _yes_ they literally only slept in the same bed, he’s not entirely sure if he’s disappointed or not) Tony looks younger asleep, more relaxed. When he’s awake it’s like he’s always trying to school his expression to fit with his persona (Loki knows how that feels)

He extracts himself slowly and wonders if he should leave a note.

In the end he doesn’t.

Tony has his number.

The walk home is longer then he remembers.

(Though last time he did quite literally run it, which may be a factor)

X.

He’s almost at the apartment complex when he feels it.

He can’t explain it.

It’s like a light switch clicking on in the back of his head, humming to life.

The Bifrost is repaired.

There’s a whooshing sound, a flash of light and then his brother is standing in front of him.


End file.
